


The Last

by Orchyd Constyne (slarmstrong)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slarmstrong/pseuds/Orchyd%20Constyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One is sent to retrieve the last Elf from the earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last

I see him.

Standing in the shadow of the old forest.

The cry of a lone eagle pierces the silence, and the mountains near the forest seem to crumble before my eyes as time erodes them. Winter is coming; the wind is sharp and bitter. The world of Man has found its end, and I watch him as he stands on the edge of his forest.

He has been here for ages, it seems. Alone with his memories. He has watched the future pass, has seen the world die, and his laughter has not graced the boughs of the wood for centuries. His fountains are dusty and dry; his halls are long abandoned, his heart empty and lonely.

He is old, his clothing worn and from a time long since past. But, his green eyes are bright and clear; he is a warrior of an olden time. He looks north. My eyes follow just as the pale, dazzling moon rises, full and beautiful in the night sky. How many such nights has he seen in his solitude, I wonder? He is the last of his people here; he is alive.

I walk toward him, and the clouds part, revealing a clear sky filled with brilliant stars. The light of the night sky falls on the lone figure and I stop in wonder. He sparkles, his golden hair shimmering and his alabaster skin glowing from an internal flame. The world may be dead, but he lives.

His eyes slowly find their way to me and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. When we stand eye to eye, I bow slightly to him. "You have dwelled here for many years. Your children have left you. Your lover has gone. Your people have moved on. You are a King whose Kingdom is now part of stories. There is no place for you now. Will you remain until even the world's time has ended?"

"Does he still wait for me?" he asks me.

"He has waited Ages and will wait still, for he loves you," I say.

He looks around him; he looks to his forest. "She is old."

I nod. I know he is finally saying goodbye.

"Aye," he says, turning those emerald eyes, full of tears and weariness, to me. "I am ready to leave her, Oromë."

I take Thranduil's hand and we leave his beloved home, his forest, and turn to the West, to Valinor, where Glorfindel waits.

The End


End file.
